Spanking machines and electric shock shoes — welcome to the world of America’s fraternal societies

Let’s talk about spanking.

Not the kind that went out of fashion among exasperated parents decades ago. Rather, the kind involving fully grown, consenting adults — mostly men — pillars of their various communities, wearing starched collars, suits, wingtips.

Veiled in secrecy, America’s fraternal societies have long had a taint of weirdness — at least among those on the outside. Their enigmatic rituals fostered rumors of secret cabals and plans for world domination.

The collection of some 361 curiosities — including a 1909 “lifting and spanking machine” — now on display at the Northwest Side’s Potter & Potter Auctions house will do little to snuff out the myths.

As of Friday morning, there was already a bid of $325 for the device, which originally came with a 32-caliber blank cartridge that exploded when the paddle struck the buttocks. The actual auction begins at 10 a.m. Oct. 9; that’s when the pre-auction highest (online or phone) bid becomes the auction’s opening bid. Register at potterauctions.com.

Most of the collection belongs to Bruce Lee Webb, a Texas folk artist and gallery owner. Webb belongs to several fraternal organizations: the Freemasons, The Independent Order of Odd Fellows and the Knights of Pythias. He began collecting fraternal order regalia and other items at flea markets in the 1980s and then later on eBay, at a time when lodges across the United States were closing.

“So much of the material has been thrown away. Early on I realized there was a sense of urgency to get out and preserve what I could,” Webb, 59, said during a recent chat with the Chicago Sun-Times.

Now, he and his wife Julie are downsizing and don’t have enough space in their converted Masonic lodge in Fort Davis in Texas, he said.

“In small towns in the past, this is where people got together to learn the news, got to know each other before the era of people meeting online,” Webb said of the early popularity of American fraternal life.

Spanking machines, sandals that delivered an electric shock and a ride on a mechanical goat were all part of the “high jinks” or the sometimes over-the-top initiation rituals, Webb said. Many of the devices came from DeMoulin Bros. and Co., a downstate company perhaps best known these days for making marching band uniforms.

Fraternal orders got their start in Europe as guilds for various tradesmen. The Freemasons, for example, can trace their roots to the stone masons in England and Scotland during the Middle Ages.

In America, fraternal organizations fostered a sense of belonging — among men who missed the camaraderie of the Civil War and World War I military life, Webb said. They also offered job-seeking men a chance to meet potential employers.

In his book “As Above, So Below: Art of the American Fraternal Society, 1850-1930,” Webb explains more of the appeal of the secret society: “Lodge rooms offered men an escape from mounting societal pressures, from the complexities of modern life, from the confining realities of daily routines, and from the company of women.”

The groups emphasized morality, charity and belief in a higher power, although organizations often stayed away from any particular religion.

Men could also indulge their creative side, Webb said, putting on, say, an elaborate theatrical production infused with Egyptian, Etruscan or perhaps Greek symbols.

It’s hard to overstate the importance of these organizations in men’s lives. High jinks aside, the initiation was supposed to be akin to a religious experience, Webb said.

“The whole process should be made one of the most crucial experiences of the candidate’s life, one that will change him to the center of his being. … As a result of it, the candidate should become a new man,” H. L. Haywood, a well-known Masonic scholar, wrote in 1923.

Traipse through almost any Illinois cemetery today , and you’ll likely find many symbols of fraternal organizations, including the all-seeing eye and a grave marker carved to look like a tree stump — symbolic of woodcraft workers.

Besides the quirky stuff — like an initiation “lung tester” that expelled soot or cornstarch when the unsuspecting user blew into it — the collection includes many pieces of skilled craftsmanship, including elaborately stitched ceremonial robes and tunics and glittering silk parade banners.

Webb argues that anyone in America should find something of interest in the collection.

“Ancient folklore and traditions are being forgotten. These lodges are a thread that connects us with the past or the culture of our not-too-distant ancestors,” he said.

But don’t expect to discover, among the hundreds of items set to go on the auction block, a clue to the Freemasons’ secret plot to rule the world.

“We’re not trying to rule the world. If Freemasons were out to take over the world, they haven’t done the best job in just keeping the order going,” Webb said.